Abandonment
by Daedalic
Summary: Jace's curiosity is piqued when he meets Clarissa Morgenstern at a homeless shelter, alone on Christmas Day. He vows to protect her, seeing her at school the next day, and then the next. He could never have foreseen just how vulnerable she really was, but he would never have taken it back, because but for that Christmas Day, he would never have fallen in love. (CONTAINS ABUSE)
1. Chapter 1

He smiled as he ladled more gravy onto the stranger's plate, his blonde hair falling haphazardly into his eyes as he waved the haggard man forward and greeted the next in line with a charming smile and a 'Merry Christmas'. The pattern persisted as the line continued, unbroken but for when he glanced up to a pair of striking green eyes. His eyebrows rose and he realized her was staring rudely at her, so not to seem rude, he served her like he had the others despite the smoldering curiosity building between them. She flashed him a grateful smile and mumbled what he presumed was a 'thank you'.

He observed her as he proceeded to mechanically serve the line, neglecting to give them his attention as he focused on the girl. Her tangled red hair hung down her shoulders and swung slightly as she searched for a table to sit at. She was dressed in only an oversized black Hoodie and ripped jeans, despite the persistent snow fall outside. She chose a half filled table occupied with vaguely familiar faces from previous years. Jace frowned. He recognized her from school, he had passed her from time to time and was pretty sure she was in his grade. What was she doing having Christmas dinner at a homeless shelter?

He was only there as it used to be a family tradition to help out for the Christmas dinners at the homeless shelter and he was reluctant to let it die, especially since his parents could no longer do it. So it struck him as odd and saddening that someone from his school was spending Christmas dinner alone, surrounded by homeless strangers. His forehead crinkled as he tried to scour is brain for any information he had on the redhead. He could remember a lot of distressing rumors surrounding her. She was a target for bullies, he was almost certain. What was her name? Her name…? He had no idea.

He spotted an empty chair beside her and hurriedly served himself before stealing the seat near to her; at the motion her head turned sharply toward him in surprise before she quickly cast her eyes down to her half eaten meal, like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Jace!" The friendly woman who came every year exclaimed heartily, drawing his attention away from _her._ "It's nice to see you here again! Merry Christmas!"

He returned the greeting, followed by a murmur from the table before he could once more focus on his new mystery.

"What's your name?" He decided to be upfront and ask her. She appeared to ignore him, perhaps she hadn't heard? He tapped her lightly on the shoulder and she jumped, looking at him with startled eyes.

"What's your name? I'm Jace." He tried again. She furrowed her eyebrows adorably.

"Me?" She finally replied, confusion written across her face as if she couldn't understand why he was talking to her. He nodded. "I-it's Clarissa," she replied timidly, unsure of herself.

"Merry Christmas, Clarissa!" Jace exclaimed, before tucking into some more turkey. The food was pretty decent for canteen food and it was enough to keep him from staring at her, he could see she was uncomfortable. Still, he reasoned, it was impossible not to steal furtive glances at Clarissa, who had returned to her meal. Her nose was bright red from the cold and he couldn't be sure but he thought he could make out a bruise patterning her left cheek.

Soon it was time to pull the budgeted Christmas crackers, he grabbed his and Clarissa's shared cracker and held it out to her. She watched him in confusion.

"Come on," He encouraged her, she merely stared at him.

"W-what am I meant to do?" she finally asked, admitting her apparent ignorance.

"You mean you don't know how to pull a cracker?" he asked, incredulous. She shook her head slightly, inching away from him.

"I mean, I know what they are…" she answered, defending herself.

She jumped as a few crackers went off, her shoulders hunching, cringing away from the noise.

"Well that's okay then, all you need to do is grab hold of the other end and pull," he explained. She reached out a hand tentatively, wrapping it around the other end- her hands were delicate and frail.

"Now we pull," he instructed, she tugged slightly and Jace yanked it hard, making the cracker fly out of her hands and thud onto the table, still not open. He chuckled.

"Let's try that again," he offered. "Pull harder this time."

They repeated it but she held on tighter than before, ripping the cracker in half with a satisfying pop. She squeaked and immediately dropped her end onto the table, scrambling about to collect the remains, before pushing them in his direction.

"I'm s-sorry, they just flew out, I didn't mean to break it-here-" she stuttered, cheeks flaming red.

"Hey, hey it's alright. It's meant to do that and you can keep them," He offered, amusement coating his voice. She stared at him like he had grown an extra head.

"You want me to keep them?"

"Yes, I've already got a whistle so it's hardly valuable to me."

She uncertainly took the pitiful remains, a plastic green whistle, an awful joke and a paper hat.

"Read the joke out," Jace said, putting on a pink paper hat. She nodded.

"Why did Santa's helper see the doctor?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Because he had low elf esteem…" She read with a frown.

"I swear they get worse every year." He commented, before unfolding the orange hat to put on Clary's head. She jumped when his hand came towards her head, but smiled apologetically when her fingers brushed the thin paper of the hat.

"Christmas Carol Time!" Jeff, head of the kitchen, announced cheerfully before launching into a raucous rendition of We Three Kings. Jace joined in, singing at the top of his lungs. They were only two songs in when he realized that Clarissa wasn't singing, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Come on, sing, don't be shy," He encouraged her. She opened her mouth and murmured slightly. He was going to get her to sing louder when he came to the realization that she wasn't singing the right words and therefore probably didn't know them. He frowned in confusion for the hundredth time, why on earth does a teenager seem to know absolutely nothing about Christmas?

When it was time to leave, he saw her shiver and glance outside the windows into the cold, dark night. She tugged on her sleeves and kept her head down, muttering a quick 'thank you' to Jace as she left. He put his arm out to stop her, catching her upper arm. She flinched and looked up at him with fearful eyes.

"Do you have a place to stay?" He asked, worried for her wellbeing. She nodded.

"Do you _want_ to go back?" he probed, trying to get some answers. She didn't answer him so he could only assume it as a no.

"Why didn't you spend Christmas with your family? Did they kick you out?"

Again she gave him the silent treatment. He sighed.

"At least take my coat, its cold," He suggested and swiftly swiped his coat from the back of the chair and onto her shoulders.

"I can't take that!" She argued, more animated than before, "It's yours!" she cried, pushing him and the coat away.

"Nonsense, I'm giving it to you, so it's _yours_ now."

"But-"

"Take it,"

"I can't-"

"Think of it as a Christmas present."

She frowned up at him.

"But why would you want to give _me_ one?" she asked, astonished. His heart skipped a little at her utter confusion, as if somebody giving _her_ a present was unheard of.

"It's rude to refuse a Christmas present you know."

Her eyes flew a little wider and she took the coat from his hands, red faced.

"I-uh-I didn't mean to be rude-" she stammered, apologizing with the heavy coat clutched in her arms. Jace waved his hand aside.

"Don't worry about it, you weren't being rude,"

"But you said-?"

He shook his head.

"I was joking, I wanted you to accept my gift."

"Oh," she frowned. Again. His phone buzzed-a text from Maryse.

"Well, I should be going," he said. She nodded and started to walk with her head down to the exit. He hesitated and then called after her,

"Wait up!"

She froze and turned back, already holding the coat back out to him. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm going with you," he stated, gathering his bag from the table as she waited patiently for him. He shouldered his bag and walked over to her, waving goodbye to the rest of the staff before he headed out the door. Clarissa shivered as the cold air hit her and he almost rolled his eyes, but instead took the coat out of her hands and wrapped it around her, causing her to flinch but not protest.

"That's better," he claimed as she stumbled after him, wrapped up in his oversize coat. They walked in silence, Jace stuck his hands in his pocket and breathed out, cold vapor billowing out in front of him. The snow was falling in torrents, escaping down his neck despite the scarf. They reached a cross section to the park and turned.

"I live on 57th, do you live close round there?"

She shrugged.

"I guess," she answered, not really confirming Jace's question. He chose to let it slide. Clarissa always walked a pace behind him, even when he slowed to be next to her she was a fraction behind. She looked unexplainably cute, huddled up in his thick, oversized trench coat. Her cheeks slowly turning red from the cold.

"So-" he said, just as she blurted out, "You smell good,"

Immediately she blanched, looking down to the floor, cheeks turning redder from embarrassment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Or say that."

He smiled.

"I don't mind. It's nice to know that I smell good, you could've said I smelt like rotten cabbages,"

She nodded, the preview of a real smile on her lips.

"My grandma really does smell like rotten cabbages though," he added on. She laughed a little but then stopped, making Jace disappointed. He wanted her to laugh.

"Sorry, that was rude," she muttered, "I didn't mean to laugh at your grandma's smell."

"It's okay, Clarissa. Really, I'm not offended by you laughing," he replied honestly and added as an afterthought. "It's nice to hear you laugh though, you have a nice laugh,"

She raised both her eyebrows.

" _Really?_ "

"Well yeah,"

"I always thought I had a bad laugh, like a dying cat."

"Who told you that?"

She shrugged, but her eyes flashed a little with hurt.

"No-one," she muttered. He let it go, although it was obviously someone. Silence pursued as they rounded a corner.

"Why-" she started at the same time he said, "Can-"

"Sorry," they both apologized at the same time. Jace shared a smile with her that he was ecstatic that she returned. She gestured for him to continue.

"Can I call you something else? Like a nickname?" he asked.

"O-okay...?"

"Clarissa is a bit of a mouthful. It's a beautiful name sure, but I think…" he paused to muse over her name, making sure he chose the perfect combination, "Clary. Yeah, Clary suits you."

"Clary?" she replied, testing the name out.

"You don't like it?"

"No. No, I really like it. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"I've never had a nickname before," she admitted.

"Never?"

She shook her head

"Never _ever_?"

"Well…I mean I have been called Freak-"

"You're not," he blurted, actually feeling his own cheeks flush. "Sebastian is an idiot. Anyone who calls you that is an idiot."

She looked down, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Hot chocolate anyone?" A man hollered from a cart, "$3 a cup,"

Jace looked to him and smiled, walking over to the cart, hopeful for some hot chocolate.

"Why not? Want some, Clary?" Jace asked her, drawing the cart man's attention to her.

"Oh, hello red. Not sleeping out there again are you?" he asked her, kindly enough. Jace glanced at her, her ears were red with shame and she kept her eyes fixated on the ground to avoid his disapproving gaze.

"Sleeping out there again?" he asked out loud.

"Aye. Gave you about four cuppers' last night, was it?" He addressed Clary. She looked up briefly.

"Five," she corrected. "Thank you for them…and the blankets and-"

"Don't mention it. It's all Christmas spirit, can't have a young lass such as yourself getting frostbite on Christmas Eve." He said and looked at Jace again, a curious but fierce look directed toward him which Jace couldn't discern.

"Two hot chocolates and two mince pies on me," the man announced, turning around to work the machine.

"But sir, I can pay," Jace said, not wanting to rob the man of his money. He glanced up from the drinks machine.

"You can pay me by making sure she goes back home tonight, get her back into the warm indoors."

He glanced back at Clary, who was huddled into his coat and now glaring at the ground.

"I will, sir," Jace promised.

"Good," he affirmed, placing his generous offer on the counter.

"Thank you, Michael," Clary said quietly before taking her own drink.

"Take care of yourself kiddo," he waved them goodbye. Once they were out of ear shot he turned to her.

"You slept out here last night!?" He asked, shocked and slightly angry that she'd be so reckless. She didn't deny it. "It's not safe!" he argued. She didn't reply.

"You're not ever doing it again," he scolded her, feeling as though her safety rested in his palms. A girl as fragile as Clary could not be left unprotected. She looked up, gazing this time into his eyes with new found helplessness, but still, there was some stubbornness there too.

"But he locked me out!" she cried resolutely. "I had nowhere else to go!"

"It's Christmas! Why did ' _he'_ lock you out?"

She shrugged.

"It was my fault," she reasoned.

"Next time it happens, the angel forbid. You go to my house," she opened her mouth to argue. "No. It's final and do you even have a key? Can you get back?"

"No, but my mom should be home."

He sighed, deeply concerned for her wellbeing, he would wrap her up in his arms and take her home if he could. His feelings were most certainly rash and hurried, she was still a mere stranger.

She sighed and glanced up to a house. He followed her gaze and realized that they had already reached his house. You could hear the Lightwoods laughing and the TV blaring out even from where they stood.

"You'll be alright?" he asked. She nodded and continued down the street. He stopped her by the arm.

"Merry Christmas, Clary."

"Merry Christmas, Jace," she whispered back and turned away. Jace watched as she disappeared up the path, perhaps to her home, but maybe not.

He hoped she would be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

Clary sat huddled in the corner of her bedroom, clutching her legs tighter as the voices rose higher. The room was cold, the heating gone bust with the lack of money to pay the bills. Clary was thankful for Jace's coat – even if the nice smell had faded and it now smelt of cigarettes.

"Oh would you look at that! We don't have any money, _again!_ " Jocelyn sneered, her voice muffled through the walls.

"What? You think I'm made of money, Jocelyn?" Valentine retaliated, just as angry.

"Just fucking do some shit with your life! Go out and get a goddamn job!"

"Why don't _you_ , huh?"

Clary could imagine the way his face would morph in anger and his arms would raise up, getting right into her mother's face, and she would just glare right back at him, adding fuel to the fire. It had always been scary how much hate they had for each other.

"I already told you I am an _artist!_ "

"Yeah, to your _one_ buyer!"

"FINE! Sell some of Clarissa's shit instead!"

Clary glanced around her room with sadness, what could they sell? She only had a bed and a wardrobe. She did have that whistle and the hat…no, they wouldn't want that. Besides, she'd hidden them under the mattress.

"I can't cos she ain't got anything valuable! We already sold it all last time, remember? When _you_ spent the money on fucking paint!"

"What about that wardrobe then!? I'm sure we can get a few dollars off that, call it antique or something!"

A sadness sunk in Clary's chest, thinking of even more furniture gone from her room.

"FINE. I will! We'll get 50 by tomorrow, happy!?"

"No I'm not fucking happy! We need more than 50!"

"Then why don't you just sell yourself, huh? Wouldn't that solve all our problems?"

"I'm sick of you Valentine!"

"Then fucking leave!"

"Fine I will!"

The front door slammed shut, leaving cloying silence in its wake. She coughed, feeling dust rise from the floor at the disturbance of the door. School would start again tomorrow and then she'd be out of the house. Valentine's boots creaked along the dirty floorboards of the living room, before the sound of a beer bottle smashing as it hit her closed bedroom door made her jump in fright.

She held her breath, spying his shadow underneath the door and crossed her fingers over her chest, eyes fixated on the door lest he barge in. The doorknob twisted before his phone rang and he stormed off, kicking the door in annoyance as he went.

She let out a shaky breath and turned over to lie on her side, staring out the window onto the moon, easily spied through the hole smashed through the window. She couldn't even complain about that – she had been the one to punch it through. Her eyes lowered to the rusted stain on the dirty floorboards, before a sigh left her cracked lips. At least he wouldn't hurt her tonight.

At least school would start again tomorrow.

* * *

Jace scoped the classroom, for once passing over the seat next to Alec. He was pleased when he noticed the small redhead concentrating hard on a sketch in front of her. Her hair was tied back in a braid gracefully falling down to the side, pieces of hair sticking out of it messily, but which he saw only as endearing. She was wearing the same clothes she was wearing at Christmas he noted with worry. However, he smiled to himself, remembering her sweetness before he sauntered over to her, catching Alec's annoyed expression out the corner of his eye.

"Hey Clary!" He greeted her enthusiastically. She looked up in surprise, green eyes wide.

"J-Jace," she replied, looking astonished. He smiled broadly and plopped down next to her in the empty seat. "What are you doing sitting here?"

"I wanted to sit next to you, you don't mind do you?"

"I don't mind," she murmured, looking down at a sketch. She could hear people whispering already. Jace began emptying his bag.

"You don't want to be sitting next to me..." she finally found the courage to tell him, once he already looked settled.

"And why is that?" Jace asked, sounding unconcerned, one eyebrow poised in question.

"Well…they're going to say things about you," she said, biting her lip uncertainly. She didn't want a confrontation.

Jace's head snapped up and scanned the classroom, meeting the stares of his fellow peers. Alec looked like he wanted to strangle him, making the cut throat gesture at him to accentuate 'don't sit there, bro!'.

"I don't care," Jace said, not taking his eyes off Alec's. Sebastian strutted into the classroom, staring at the two of them at the back in disgust. His eyes lingering on Clary with a truly terrifying look for longer before taking his usual seat, but not faltering his open glare at the two.

"Jace, I really don't want to cause you any trouble-" she said, feeling the eyes of Sebastian on them.

"Clary, I seriously do not care about everyone else in the room." He replied seriously, looking her in the eyes. "I'm not going to move."

"Jace, you really-"

"I want to sit next to you. I am your friend. I am not moving because some people in the room are too stupid and rude to see past their own prejudices."

"O-okay," Clary resigned hesitantly, as the teacher walked into the classroom, flustered and confused. What did Jace want? She had nothing to offer, not even friendship, she was just needy. Besides she had never had a friend in her life.

* * *

Clary pushed into her bedroom with a harrowing sigh, dumping the torn backpack on the bed before flopping down on the lumpy mattress herself.

Jace had wanted her number, but she didn't have a phone.

She glanced to her left. She didn't have a wardrobe either, anymore. At least Valentine had the decency to leave her clothes, even though there wasn't much in that department either.

She didn't have much of anything. Except a friend, maybe. She smiled looking up at the damp ceiling in wistful disbelief.

She had a friend and he was nice.

Her stomach growled and so she rolled off the mattress with a groan, treading her way into the kitchen to inspect the cupboards. Gone off milk and a packet of sauce was the only food in the house.

She resisted the urge to cry, feeling the tears spring to her eyes but she refused – it was stupid to cry. The door burst open, threatening to fall off its hinges as Valentine threw a blonde stranger against the wall who had half a shirt and smudged mascara. Clary ducked her head and slowly backed away toward her bedroom, trying to shut out the moans and groans coming from the living room.

"Not a word to your mother, understand?" Valentine called out, making her freeze and turn to him with a frightened nod, quaking under his glare. "Now go!" he ordered and she scurried into her room at his command.

Once safely inside, she ignored her persistent hunger and sat down on the desolate floor, dragging her bag off the bed. Her History homework would be easy to complete, for it was an essay and she could use her textbook, but she needed the internet for her geography homework. There was no computer and no laptop – Jocelyn had sold that two years ago when it had been in Clary's possession for exactly one month.

Sometimes they felt guilty and bought her nice things.

The sounds only rose from the living room, distracting Clary as she tried to outline the strengths of the Declaration of Independence.

It wouldn't be the first time Valentine brought another girl home and not the last, but it was okay, because Jocelyn was eloping with Luke Garraway anyway. Clary wondered, as she often did, what would happen to her when they divorced. She couldn't see either of them wanting her. Neither could she see a stranger wanting to deal with her.

* * *

"Hey Clary!" Jace called out, catching up to her in the busy corridor, shoving people out the way to reach her. His eyes were bright and exited as he began explaining his weekend, wielding his hands animatedly into the air as he spoke of the football game he and Alec won and the cake Isabelle ruined by using salt instead of sugar.

Clary smiled back at him, his happiness infectious, which prevailed even as they reached their homeroom. Which they discovered, to Jace's obvious and Clary's discreet delight that they shared together after the classes were mistakenly mixed up.

"So what did you do on your weekend?" he asked, plopping his bag next to the desk as he sat in his chair next to Clary's. It still astonished her that he would want to sit by her.

"Not much," She replied, shrugging.

"Come on," he encouraged her, "you must've done something. I wanna hear it, even if it's just homework."

"Well I got that Declaration of Independence homework done for Starkweather."

Jace groaned audibly, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Urgh, I forgot all about that homework!" He exclaimed.

"It's okay," Clary said, "You can use mine to make your notes."

"You sure?" Jace affirmed, "I know you spend a lot of time and effort to do your homework. I don't want to spoil that or anything."

"No it's fine," Clary assured him, reaching down to her bag to fish out the homework in the sea of textbooks and loose paper, "Here."

"Thanks red, you're the best."

* * *

Three loud uncertain knocks rapped on the door. Clary jumped, falling off her bed unceremoniously to scramble toward the front door. She hesitated, waiting anxiously on the other side, silently hoping the person would go away.

Three knocks sounded again.

She sighed, heart pumping fast and opened the door.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't the spectacled teenage boy before her, a smile on his face and two heavy containers in his hands.

"Hi!" He exclaimed, seeming happy that someone had actually answered the door, having worried on the other side. "My name is Simon. Simon Lewis, I just moved in downstairs with my mom."

Clary simply stared at him, taking in his soft jaw, thick eyebrows and messy dark hair – perfectly harmless in its entirety.

"H-hi," she finally mustered up the courage to reply, "I'm…Clary."

The nickname Jace had given her rolled off her tongue effortlessly, as if by instinct it was her new name, hurriedly she made amends, "But you can call me Clarissa if you like, I mean that's my real name…"

"It's lovely to meet you, _Clary."_ It was at this point he gestured to the objects in his hands. "My mom thought I should greet the neighbors and give them some food as a peace treaty," he smiled goofily, "It's a Shabbat recipe – we're Jewish," he looked uncomfortable, "I, uh, hope that's not a problem?"

Clary shook her head.

"It's not a problem."

"Oh good, sorry, it's just some people don't like it," he shrugged, "Can I come inside? I'll just dump the food if you don't want me to stay."

Clary stalled, hesitant to invite this friendly stranger, Simon, into her dilapidated apartment. His hopeful look made her feel inescapably guilty as she knew she could not say no.

"Sure." She replied softly, stepping back to let him pass before closing the door softly behind him, nervous as to what he would think. It was only when she saw him appraise the apartment through his own eyes that she truly saw the bad state it was in.

The living space/kitchen was empty, derelict even, besides the two torn peach armchairs, stained with beer and the single couch facing the old TV with the crack down the screen.

Empty beer bottles, crisp packets and dirt coated the threadbare carpet, disguising a design none had cared for. Clary was ashamed. Simon cleared his throat and moved over to the kitchen counter, depositing the food and sparing only a quick glance at the soiled plates piled up in the sink. It would probably be today that Valentine ordered Clary to wash them up.

"It's, um, a nice place. Looks a lot like mine, you know in shape and stuff…"

Clary smiled, shifting on her feet a little awkwardly to the side.

"You don't have to be nice," she told him, "It's a dump."

"Right," his eyes wandered around awkwardly, glancing toward her bedroom door which was open haphazardly displaying the bare contents of it. She blushed, deeply mortified by the lack of life to it. He frowned.

"Is that your room?" he asked, incredulous. Clary was in half a mind to lie, but she knew she was a terrible liar. Valentine had confirmed that.

"Erm… yeah. I guess."

"You don't have a wardrobe?" he asked, astounded. "Or a desk?"

Clary shrugged uncomfortably, pulling down her sleeves to cover her hands.

"We don't have much money…"

"Oh," he merely responded, squinting his eyes at the open door of my parent's room. "Looks like your parent's have a wardrobe."

It was true. In fact, her parent's room had a laptop stowed away inside, a double bed, canvas, paints, a vanity desk for her mother, a wardrobes' worth of weed, snacks hidden away, and a month's food worth in cigarettes…

Clary tried to forget about it, maybe if she ignored it then they would sort themselves out and she would get a new window, or perhaps a desk or even a laptop.

It was wishful thinking.

Simon cleared his throat again, "Anyway, you seem like a nice girl. Do you go to the school three blocks away?"

"Xavier's?"

"Yeah, I'm starting there tomorrow. New year, new home, new school kind of thing."

"I go there." She assured him, "It's good, they have a really nice library with computers and lots of books."

He nodded, taking in the information.

"Can I hang with you? I don't want to be lost and alone on my first day."

"You can if you want, but…I'm, um, I'm not…popular. You'd have better chances with someone like Eric or Jordon."

"Don't you have friends?" Simon asked, something akin to pity swimming in his gaze. Clary was somewhat used to that. Her third grade teacher had given her that look when her parents forgot to pick her up after school. For the fifth time.

"No," she answered, "Not really. There's Jace."

Simon nodded, "You have Jace _and_ Simon now."

"Thank you," Clary replied, genuinely so grateful, she hadn't anticipated a friend when she opened the door, "And for the food too."

"Anytime," he smiled, his phone rang – the theme tune to Star Wars which Clary could only guess from pop quizzes and he checked the screen, "My mom wants me back. Thanks for letting me in and as my new friend you are welcome to visit my home downstairs whenever you want, I am told I host the best pizza nights."

Clary nodded, "Thanks."

"Bye, Clary." He called out, leaving the apartment. It was astoundingly quiet in his wake, the depressing silence on the empty space resounding within Clary as she stared at the morose emptiness.

Remembering the food, she smiled, opening the cover to reveal the most delicious looking meal and she dug in, serving herself a generous portion.

It tasted so great that she ate until she was full, bursting at the seams, but reluctant to stop. Who knew when the next time she would get to eat was? Tomorrow lunchtime? Friday evening?

She only stopped when she was close to heaving all the food back up again, and would have done, had she not known the consequence of wasting good food. Now she was faced with the biggest dilemma yet, leave the food out and give it up to her parents or hide it somewhere. She struggled, biting her lip as she warred with herself before she took the bowl, with the cover and hid it under her bed, praying the smell wouldn't give her away.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thank you for all the support, with the follows/favourites/reviews. Thank you to both_** _ **BookHowell and** **ThatOneGoodWriter for your constructive criticism, I would reply but the site is having issues with replies. I hope I have made them both seem more in character as they are all very much OOC at the moment. Thanks a bunch xx**_

* * *

"Simon this is Jace, and Jace this is Simon my new neighbor." Clary introduced them apprehensively. Both sized each other up, Jace narrowing his eyes at Simon.

"Where d'you move from?" He questioned.

"Washington," Simon answered, "My mum just got a job in New York."

"Hmm," Jace mused, but that was it and Clary frowned, unsure what to do now. Did this kind of thing always happen when you had two friends instead of one? The bell rang, saving Clary from the conundrum and Simon adjusted the straps on his rucksack before heading in, Jace following behind.

He wasn't sure what to make of the new boy, anxious to ask him all sorts of questions as to how close they lived, had he been to her house? He needed to know whether he would become a potential threat to fragile Clary and if he was, he couldn't have that.

He kept quiet about it, still, for Clary's sake which didn't mean she didn't notice.

"Jace?" she asked, once they were seated in history, "Is there something wrong with Simon?"

He smirked, "You mean besides the you know," he gestured to his face, "Rat face thing?"

Clary frowned, for the first time slightly annoyed with Jace.

"That's mean." She told him.

Jace picked up a pen lazily from the desk and began spinning it, "There's nothing wrong with Simon, really…"

"Then what? You've been acting strange all day."

He smiled a little, and flipped the pen into his other hand deftly, before glancing back at her, "Don't worry about it, he's a good guy okay?"

Clary sighed, and smiled a little, but wasn't satisfied with his answer. Something was bothering him about Simon.

"Then why did you call him rat face?" she pressed, stubbornly adamant that she would get an answer from him.

"Somebody has to tell him the truth," he said, just as the teacher called the class to attention and Clary couldn't press him for more answers which was very frustrating. She never considered how Jace would react to Simon. He always seemed so nice around her.

* * *

Clary sat down at their table at the canteen with an exhausted thump, but then remembered it only had two chairs and so she had to get up again and grab a chair for Simon.

Jace arrived first, plopping down a tray of canteen food onto the table before sliding into the seat next to her. He grimaced down at the food, some kind of curry Clary reckoned, even if it didn't resemble it much.

"Sometimes I wonder whether they substitute the real food for dog food. I mean look at that!" he exclaimed, picking up a piece of brown sludge before letting it slide off the spoon. "I don't even like stew," he grumbled, as he ate some reluctantly. Oh, Clary thought, not curry then.

Simon slid into the chair opposite them, letting the chair scrape nosily as he dragged it closer to the table.

"I thought I'd go for the salad," he commented, "It looked better than…that." He pointed to Jace's food, who grimaced at Simon.

"Is there some particular reason that you're here?" he asked, rather rudely, Clary thought.

"Not this again." Simon muttered, stealing a glance at Clary.

"Not what again?" Clary asked.

"Nothing!" Jace sang, stealing a fry from Simon's plate, which was half salad and half fries. Simon looked put-out as he took a sip of his drink.

"Hey!" Clary argued, "What was that about? You upset Simon!"

"Oh," mused Jace, "How terrible."

"See, she's on my side," said Simon. "Ha-ha."

"Ha-ha?" Jace looked incredulous. "That's your comeback?"

Simon frowned at Jace, as he continued to eat his lunch, causing Clary to become even more exasperated. She wasn't sure what to do.

"Jace?" Clary tried again once Simon left to dump his tray at the other end of the canteen, "Can you please be nice to Simon?"

Jace glanced up at her, already beginning to say something, but he stopped and closed his mouth. His features softened and Clary guessed she must look as distraught as she felt.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, earnestly this time, "I didn't mean to make you upset, he just annoys me."

"Oh," Clary replied, "Is…there something I can do?"

"No," Jace said, pushing his empty plate away from him, "I'll get over it."

"Okay," Clary resigned, anxious to see how it all played out.

* * *

Clary sighed, squinting at the science building across the car-park, she usually walked with Simon but he was off-sick. She didn't want to walk across on her own, worried that Sebastian might be lurking behind it like he used to.

The bell rang and so Clary had to make a move towards the building, putting one step before the other. She tried to remember how Jace would walk, with so much confidence that he seemed to repel everyone around him. She squared her shoulders, in an effort not to hunch and look small, then she made her stride more assured. She reckoned that if she thought she was brave then she could convince even herself that it was true.

"Hey there, Freaky Fray," Sebastian drawled, making Clary jump and spin around to face him, as he pushed of the edge of the brick science building with lazy pride.

"What do you want Sebastian?" Clary asked, bravely, then added, "Fray isn't even my name."

"Ooh," Sebastian mocked, "The cat's claws are out, I'm obviously _terrified_."

Clary scowled at him, continuing to the door which was only a few feet away. Sebastian moved to stand in front of her.

"Move out of my way!" Clary muttered, glaring at him. He laughed.

"What are you going to do about it, huh?" he goaded her, "Tell me off?"

Clary glared harder and gritted her teeth feeling her resolve weaken as he stared down at her.

"Leave me alone."

"No, I don't think so," he told her, "Besides you're already late, goody two-shoes."

"Well at least I'm actually going to g-graduate!" she threw back, angry that she had stuttered it so it lost its effect. He laughed mirthlessly.

"Cute," he remarked, moving a step closer towards her, "it's nice to see you've finally found people who will tolerate you, even Jace, you must have done something ' _special_ ' to earn his attention."

He moved closer to her again, and Clary stepped back into the wall behind her, not noticing how he had backed her into it.

He smiled menacingly, "No witty reply?"

"Just leave me alone," she protested, he shook his head slowly, "Nope."

She tried to push past him, but he shoved her backwards into the wall again, making her hit it sharply. She flinched, unable to stop a hiss escaping at the sudden force.

"Where's the confidence now, Clarissa?" he taunted, knowing that she cringed when he said her name in that way, "You know, Simon seems like a bit of a nerd, don't you think?" he mused, "I think I could have a bit of fun with him, glasses, graphic t-shirts, he practically makes himself a target-oomph."

Clary's fist had connected with his face before she could even think, it hit his cheek hard and Clary winced at the flare of pain in her hand before she slipped past him.

"You little bitch-" Sebastian spat, grabbing on to her arm just as she made it to the door, dragging her back again when suddenly he released his grip.

She stared wide eyeed at Jace as he pinned Sebastian to the wall with feral grace, his face scrunched up in anger – reminding Clary of an animal, something akin to a lion. He had sprung from nowhere, but Clary was glad and she could finally breath normally.

"What do you think you're doing Sebastian?" Jace growled, "You don't touch her!"

Sebastian laughed, despite the way he was crushed under Jace's grip.

"Someone's protective, is she a good lay then?" he remarked, causing Jace to pound him into the wall.

"If Clary wasn't watching," Jace threatened lowly to Sebastian, "You wouldn't be able to stand right now."

Sebastian only grimaced at Jace, prompting him to continue, "Don't touch her again, don't even talk to her again, you coward," he hissed, "Not so scary now are you? Once you finally picked on someone your own size."

Clary knew that Jace would've said more, or done more, if the gym teacher hadn't interrupted and pulled them apart.

"What's this about?" the teacher asked, glancing between the two.

"Sebastian was tormenting Clary," Jace said, casually brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder, "I don't like bullies."

Mr. Mohan, the gym teacher frowned at Sebastian, "Is this true?" he asked Clary, who nodded, inching closer to Jace. Mr. Mohan grumbled under his breath before hauling Sebastian away to the main building, and to the head teacher's office Clary assumed.

He had been caught bullying her before, but they never expelled him.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked, examining Clary for any possible injuries, she looked fine from what he could see.

"Yeah," Clary answered, still shaken, "I'm fine."

Jace nodded, squaring his shoulders, "You tell me if he comes near you again, you're lucky I was going to the office this time."

Clary nodded rapidly, "Yes, I will, thank you so much for-"

"Anytime, Clary, I'm there when you need me," Jace reassured her, smiling as he guided her to class.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey Jace," Clary greeted him, sliding onto her stool next to him in their art class, which Jace had signed up for last week, after being told he had to take an extra class to boost his GPA.

"Hey Clary," he replied. The class were immersed in chatter and by now they were beginning to accept that for some strange and unfathomable reason the antisocial outcast had been befriended by Jace Lightwood. Simon was sometimes factored into the conversations about their friendship too, but most people ignored him.

"I have something for you, actually." Jace said, surprising Clary and her eyebrows rose.

"I know you, well, not to be rude, but I know your family don't have a lot of money and I wanted to give you one of my old sweaters and some of Izzy's' things too. I left them in my locker."

"Jace!" Clary cried, "You can't give those to me!"

"Why not?"

"Well, I-" Clary faltered, "I don't want them."

Jace furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side, "But I'm offering you them."

"Well I don't want them!"

"Clary, just take them."

"No." Clary protested, turning back to the easel in front of her, glaring at it.

Jace smirked, "You'll burn a hole into the canvas if you're not careful."

Clary would've flipped him the finger, if she had been that brave. Jace kept staring calmly at her, his eyebrows raised as if he knew she'd relent to his offer and that infuriated her. He didn't know her, or her family, not really.

The whole lesson passed before Clary turned to Jace, which was far longer than he expected it would take. Clary had been mulling the offer over in her mind, weighing her pride against what she really needed.

"Sorry," she muttered, "I shouldn't have ignored you. It was nice of you to offer."

"So you'll accept?"

She nodded, knowing that it would benefit her greatly to wear new clothes.

"But Isabelle won't miss them, will she?"

"She won't even batter one perfectly mascaraed eyelid, she has too many clothes as it is, and I have enough sweaters – trust me."

She sighed.

"Don't worry about it," Jace assured her again and tried not to give her a sympathetic look, which he always tried to avoid sending her way, not wanting to alienate her because she was poorer than the rest of them. Simon told him (while Jace was actually listening) that her house was practically empty and she didn't have a desk or even a wardrobe.

What kind of friend lets the other live like that?

* * *

"Oi! Jocelyn!" Valentine boomed from the living room where he sneered at the opposing football team, resenting the fact that they were winning. Clary was busy washing the dishes which had begun to mold over.

"What!?" Jocelyn yelled back, emerging from the bedroom.

"Fetch me a beer!"

"We ran out!" she shouted back, not bothering to check.

"Clarissa, fetch me a beer!" he tried again, throwing her his dirtiest look. She nodded and scampered to the cupboard, appraising the growing amount of food being stashed away. Jocelyn had gone shopping, Clary must remember to thank her – very grateful that she had spent time to think of it.

Clary had no money herself to spend on food. She was not yet sixteen, despite feeling as if she was twenty already, and so could not get a job.

Two weeks' time that would change and she'd finally be able to afford to buy herself food and clothes and maybe even some more pens for school. With sudden sadness she remembered the bills and rent that would need to be paid. Perhaps the clothes could be sacrificed.

Jocelyn was right. There was no beer.

"Sorry we're out of beer." Clary informed him, voice shaking as she anticipated his anger.

"Well? Is there not any alcohol at all?"

"N-no."

He growled, turning back to the TV with surmounting anger and Clary returned to the dishes apprehensively. He was craving alcohol, was highly irritable without it and his favorite team were losing. Clary knew only to brace for the pain. Hopefully his team would win and he would be too lost in triumph to remember Clary's vulnerability.

It happened. Sometimes. When she was lucky.

They were losing, really badly, by the time the last plate was put away. He was getting really angry by this point, pacing the floor with thundering footfalls, hands fisted tightly at his sides.

His veins stood out with the tension.

Clary crossed her fingers behind her back, watching with dread as the last few minutes of the match meant another penalty given away and another stolen point. Valentine roared with an inhuman intensity as he turned and threw the armchair across the room before his eyes met Clary's.

She was quaking under his gaze, as if the weight of the world fell atop her shoulders and her legs were giving out. He had already reached her, a hand latching itself around her chin – squeezing so painfully tight.

"I want beer," he hissed demanding the impossible.

"I'm sorry we don't-" she couldn't finish, sentence made abrupt by the stinging slap across her cheek, rising tears to the surface. She staggered backwards, almost knocked off her feet and clutched the cold counter by her side, holding herself steady.

"Why not!?" he seethed, once more grappling her, by the shirt this time, drawing their faces close. She was muted into silence, aware that no answer could be given to assuage his rage. "ANSWER ME!"

"N-n-no money," she stammered, the words unleashed in one frightful, last ditched attempt to save herself. He threw her recklessly to the ground, causing her to fly in the air for one momentary second before pain exploded from her back and head. The counter was hard and rough behind her where she lay.

His heavy booted foot came in contact with her soft stomach and she gasped, the wind knocked out of her and heaved, empty stomach sparing no contents.

"It's always fucking money! You and Jocelyn are so needy!" he punctuated with another well aimed kick, "its food one minute, what do you want the next? A fucking car!"

He reached down and grasped her hair, pulling her upright in front of his grotesquely contorted face.

"I do so much for you!" he spat, "I provide a home for you – the least you can do is give me some fucking beer."

She held her breath, but she needn't bother as he stole it from her with a punch to the gut, making her crumple against him before he pushed her violently away from him onto the floor.

"I never wanted a kid you know?" he sneered, looking down at her with fuming hatred.

 _Clary knew._

* * *

 _"_ _Clarissa, what are you doing?" Jocelyn asked with a laugh, tickling the little girl wedged in between the cupboards, hidden poorly behind the door._

 _"_ _I'm hiding," Clary whispered, her hands cupping her mouth to be more secretive._

 _"_ _From who?" Jocelyn asked, "Were you playing with that kid across the street again."_

 _"_ _Dad," she replied, glancing up at her mother apprehensively. She wouldn't be angry, would she?_

 _Jocelyn's face hardened, turning grave. The five-year-old noticed._

 _"_ _Don't be silly!" Jocelyn cooed, eyes avoiding Clary's wide green ones as she lifted her out of the gap. "Were you playing hide and seek?"_

 _"_ _No…" Clary answered honestly, placing her head on her mom's shoulders as she was carried into the living room. "It was scary."_

 _"_ _Don't be silly, Clarissa, I'm sure he didn't like you hiding from him. He must've felt sad that you ran away."_

* * *

"Hey darling," Jocelyn greeted her daughter, sliding onto the bed next to where she lay. Clary felt the bed dip and stiffened, breaking her gaze away from the ceiling where she had been counting the plastic stars that they had all put up there a long, long time ago.

"Hi," Clary whispered, feeling the fresh forming scab on her lip crack and split with the movement.

Jocelyn sighed, then smiled warmly, raising a finger to brush a stray piece of hair off Clary's forehead. Clary flinched and quickly sat up so she could scoot away from Jocelyn and lean against the wall.

Her mother looked hurt, her eyes sad and lonely.

"Sorry," Clary murmured, the lips of her mouth turned up slightly in an apologetic smile. Her face felt sore when her cheeks moved, the left side of her face still tender from the slap.

"How's school?" Jocelyn asked, drawing her legs close to her chest as she wrapped an arm around them.

"Good," Clary answered, "I've made two friends."

Jocelyn perked up.

"Tell me about them."

Clary could see familiar green eyes blinking back at her and she smiled, despite her bruised cheek, relaxing at little.

"There's Jace," Clary obliged, "He's really nice…and funny."

"What does he look like?"

"Blonde," Clary replied, "and tan, he's got the nicest eyes too."

Jocelyn smiled teasingly at her.

"Sound like someone has a crush!" she sang, "I bet he's handsome."

Clary blushed, gazing down at her fumbling fingers and shrugged.

"I guess he is."

Jocelyn stretched her legs out onto the bed, wiggling her toes a little in mock childishness, Clary shifted an inch away from her, reluctant to let their legs touch.

"And what about your other friend?"

"His name's Simon and he's so friendly, he has brown hair and glasses," Clary explained, "He likes comic books and science."

"Sounds like a geek to me," Jocelyn scoffed, "Or a bit like Luke."

"Oh," Clary said, examining a bruise on her forearm it was a deep and ugly purple, also extremely sensitive to touch, she discovered with a hiss. Her mother's eyes glanced down to it.

"I might move in with him soon," She told Clary, "He's going to rent out a nice apartment above a bookshop, once he sorts out his debt."

Clary nodded.

"Would I come too?" She asked apprehensively. Jocelyn laughed and grabbed her hand, rubbing her knuckles with her thumb.

"Of course," she said, "I promise. Once I get better."

Clary nodded again. Jocelyn's phone rang, cutting through the silence with its shrill register.

"Hey Luke!" Jocelyn exclaimed as she quickly answered, all smiles and happiness, "Oh I'm not busy," she said, sliding off the bed and out the door. Clary watched morosely as her mother went into her bedroom, grabbing her jacket and then her keys from the counter with a jingle. "I'll be right over," she promised, opening the front door before turning around and throwing Clary a backwards glance. She blew her a kiss and a wave before she was gone.

Clary sighed.

Jocelyn was here one minute and gone the next, just when Clary thought she was finally staying. But then, she thought now, maybe you never really had someone. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it.

* * *

 _"_ _Clary, look at the faeries! Aren't they so pretty!" Jocelyn exclaimed, pointing to things Clary could not see, but her mom was happy. She was hardly ever happy anymore._

 _"_ _Yeah." She replied, trying to pretend she really could see them._

 _"_ _Do you like the blue one? Or maybe the green?" her mom grasped the thin air, smiling at something she thought was on the tip of her finger._

 _"_ _The blue one is pretty," Clary obliged. She didn't want her mom to feel crazy.  
_

 _"Nonsense," her mom chastised her. Clary sighed and hunched her shoulders. "It's beautiful!"_

 _Her mother's glazed eyes unfocused and then refocused on Clary's face. Clary hated it when her pupils were this wide and…lifeless. Valentine said it was because of her special happy medicine. It wasn't happy for Clary._

 _"_ _Oooh what's this?" Jocelyn exclaimed, hand brushing her daughters face. Clary's breath hitched, wondering whether her mom had finally noticed the black and purpled bruise that marred her face and made her left eye sore and swollen._

 _"_ _She likes you! Look she's tickling your nose! Can't you feel it?" Jocelyn mused, pinching Clary' nose. Clary tried to stop the tears pooling in her eyes and forced a laugh._

 _"_ _It tickles," she lied, trying to smile.  
_

 _"Oh, I do love your smile my dear," Jocelyn complimented, "Boy, I am hungry! Clary, get the faeries to help you make dinner! Evelien says she will!"_

 _"_ _Yes, mom." Clary sighed, moving over to the kitchen counter to cook pasta. She struggled to lift the pan, the weight more than her skinny nine-year old arms could hold._

 _"_ _Aren't you going to thank Evelien, Clary that's rude!? Apologize!"_

 _"_ _Yes thank you, sorry Evelien." Clary muttered, filling the pan with water. Jocelyn went quiet. Clary knew the stages well._

 _She'd be happy and crazy, and then she'd get sad._

 _"_ _Does anyone love me?" Jocelyn mused, staring at the blank wall, sinking into an armchair._

 _"_ _I love you, mom." Clary responded dutifully, grabbing some minced meat to make spaghetti. The sentiment wasn't returned. Clary ignored the aching feeling in her heart.  
_

 _"What am I doing?" Jocelyn asked rhetorically "Got myself knocked up with that bastard, got a fucking kid. What did I do wrong?"_

 _Clary smiled tightly, swallowing the lump in her throat._

 _"_ _I don't want a kid!" She wailed._

 _Clary knew. She wiped her good eye with the palm of her hand, quickly pouring the sauce onto the meat, leaving it to cook before mixing the ingredients together.  
_

 _"I'm hungry," Jocelyn complained with a pout._

 _"_ _Dinner's nearly ready," Clary rationalized, stirring the food._

 _"_ _I want it noooow."_

 _Clary had no reply, except to finish up and dump it onto two plates, giving one to her mom before she retreated back to the kitchen to eat, staring at the wall monotonously as she ate. The food tasted ashy in her mouth._

 _Deep down her mom loved her. She was her little girl._

 _Yes, Clary was sure her mom must love her, even if only a little._

 _A little would be enough._


	5. Chapter 5

No-one was home and the front door was locked. Clary huffed, seeing the frosted vapor dissipate from her mouth and sat down on the cold apartment steps. She rubbed her hands together rapidly, trying to create heat from the friction but it was barely enough to stop the spreading numbness from her fingertips.

She sighed.

At least she still had Jace's coat for warmth. And his sweater.

She huddled it close to her, foot tapping an impatient rhythm as she waited in the freezing cold for one of her wayward parents to come home. Sometimes she'd sleep out here overnight, but most of the time they forgot to lock the door anyway and she was spared from the cold.

Shuffling footsteps clanged up the steps and Clary huddled in on herself, peering down to see Simon returning from school. They usually walked together but Simon had joined the school science club and so walked later on a Wednesdays. He paused in front of his door, fumbling in his jacket for the key. She watched him silently, ceasing her foot tapping to be quiet, embarrassed to be waiting out in the cold, alone.

He'd think she was stupid and homeless.

He looked up and she cursed her luck, ducking her head to avoid his gaze, but knowing her ginger hair gave her away without words.

"Clary?" he called, she frowned, grimacing at the frost under her feet. "What're you doing out here? It's _freezing!_ "

Clary shrugged and looked up at him, folding herself impossibly smaller. Simon's scolding expression softened, causing a sinking feeling in Clary's heart – anxiety gripping her. What did he think of her?

"Come inside," he offered, opening his front door as an invitation to her. "Come on! All the heat is escaping."

She scrambled to her feet, clambering down the steps towards Simon, before he placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her inside. The heat rushed over her instantly and her raw cheeks began to thaw. Simon's apartment looked like Clary's when they first moved in, clean and organized. His bedroom door was open, games, magazines and comic books spilling out into the doorway and onto the floor.

They had a nice carpet and a TV.

Clary huddled further into her jacket.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Simon asked, "Just until your parents get back."

"Okay," Clary replied in a small and timid voice before she cleared her throat – remembering Jace's sense of confidence.

"Which one?" Simon asked, moving over to the cupboard under his TV, opening it to reveal a whole host of DVDs. Clary shrugged, looking around at the photo frames on the walls.

"I don't know; I haven't seen any movies."

Simon whipped around with an almost repulsed expression, "You're kidding me!?"

Clary shrugged again and rolled her eyes.

"Well we better start with the classics then, Lord of the Rings or Star Wars?"

Clary was flustered by the decision, which would make Simon happier? She didn't really care, so long as she wasn't outside in the cold again.

"Which do you prefer?"

"Either. You pick."

Clary observed the covers, The Lord of the Rings looked cooler or at least she didn't fancy watching a sci-fi, "That one," she said pointing to it.

"Alright," Simon agreed, popping it into the DVD player. "I'll go get us some popcorn."

The movie began but Clary was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure what to do, Simon glanced around from where he was rummaging in the cupboards, "Take a seat!"

She sat, awkwardly perched on the couch, but far too uncomfortable to even consider relaxing and feeling very much out of place. Simon came over a few minutes later with a bowl of fluffy white popcorn. He offered it to her and she took it, balancing it in her lap, before diverting her attention back to the movie. Simon reached into the bowl and took a handful before raising his eyebrows at her, "You not gonna have some?"

"Oh." Clary answered, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth before she let herself admit she didn't think she was allowed, "Its feels weird," she observed, "Kind of like polystyrene, but I like it."

"You've never had popcorn before have you?" he asked, anticipating her answer.

She shook her head in agreement and he nodded, not discussing the subject further to Clary's relief. She ended up eating a lot of popcorn, which she didn't even notice because of the enthralling movie. It was amazing, exactly like being transported into a book and she loved it, even if it was pretty scary in places.

Those terrifying dark hooded men reminded her of her Valentine and she couldn't help but shudder.

The film made her wonder what else she had missed, because before she never really cared or noticed it – it was just her life and she had accepted that she wouldn't enjoy the things other people could.

She was sad when it ended, confused at the conclusion that wasn't altogether satisfying. What happened to Frodo? Do they get to Mordor?

Simon noticed her forlorn expression and smiled, "Don't worry, Clary, there's two more."

"Oh good," she said, "I thought it just…ended there."

Simon laughed, "No, that would mean the film company loses out on money. They made more, they even made The Hobbit into _four_ parts."

Clary nodded in acknowledgment and then glanced at the clock, realizing she should get back home.

"I should go, thanks Simon."

"Bye, we'll watch the second one soon."

* * *

"Any news?" Jace enquired in homeroom, lounging about in his chair as he shifted through his homework with a frustrated pout.

"Yes actually!" Clary told him excitedly, surprising Jace who threw his physics back into his bag and turned to her with his full attention, "I applied for a job and I got it!" Clary exclaimed.

"That's great news!" he congratulated her, then pulled a confused face, "I didn't know you were old enough?"

Clary blushed and her eyes widened, "Oh – I turned sixteen last week."

Jace blanched, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open in a comedic fashion.

"What!?" He yelled, drawing unwanted attention from the class, making Clary glare at Jace and attempt to hide away from the prying eyes – especially Sebastian. He had left her alone once Jace defended her, but he still had the capability to hurt her.

Her fear of him wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried.

"How come you didn't tell me?" Jace murmured, quieter and Clary could see on his face that he was hurt, which was puzzling to her.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized and defended herself, "I didn't think it was that important."

"But you turned sixteen! You missed your sweet sixteenth party! I didn't give you a present!" Jace protested, "There are so many new opportunities for you to explore like-"

"It's no big deal."

"But I wanted to get you something-"

"You didn't need to." Clary said with a frown, "I turned sixteen, that's all, no big occasion." Her frown deepened as she flickered aimlessly through her sheets of paper.

"Clary I-"

"Not everything is about you," Clary muttered furiously.

"Possibly," Jace replied coyly, a smirk creeping onto his lips "but you do have to admit that the majority of things are."

Clary huffed, unamused as she tried to ignore him with by reading her history textbook. They were silent for a while, before Jace sighed audibly.

"I just wanted to celebrate your birthday with you, I'm hurt that you didn't even tell me when it was," Jace told her softly but indignant. Clary felt guilty and she sighed, biting her lip as she looked up at Jace.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

Jace nodded, "Fine just tell me next time."

* * *

Clary smiled a rare smile, the notes clutched in her hands which were tucked inside Jace's coat as she shuffled inside her apartment. Her first payment. Real cash that she felt crinkling between her fingertips.

Her smile faltered, seeing Valentine slouched over in a chair – his eyes flicking up to her, "What are you so happy about?" he asked grumpily. She shrugged, her hands tightening into fists over the notes.

He caught the movement and his eyes honed in on the hand in her pocket.

"Whatcha got there?" He interrogated, eyes narrowed. She trembled, a little, but released the money from her fingertips, bringing her hands out into the open.

"Nothing. My hands were cold, that's all."

He scrutinized her, head to toe. He made a gruff noise, not satisfied with her answer - she was hiding something from him.

"Turn out your pockets."

"There's nothing in them."

"Turn them out." He ordered, voice hard and commanding, offering no choice.

Fear made Clary's heart heavy, as she steeled herself with courage before plunging her hand into her pockets and turning them inside out, watching as the money fluttered to the ground.

Valentine lunged towards the notes, like a lion to its prey before they were in his dirty fingers' grasp. He shuffled through it reverently, Clary couldn't stand to see that destructive greed on his face.

"Liar," he sneered, before punching her on the shoulder, "Where did you get it from?"

"A friend gave it to me."

He laughed, short, sharp and condescending.

"Liar," he sang, "Who would give _you_ 50 bucks?"

Clary shuffled on her feet, hands shaking as she fisted them, gaze fixed to the floor.

"Well, tell me then, where did you get it from?"

"I-I don't know."

He stalked towards her, forcing her to stumble away from him, backing herself unwittingly into the corner. His palms were placed against the wall besides her head, caging her in as he leant forward, his disgusting breath breathing down upon her.

"Where did you get it?" he sneered, a hand abandoning the wall to grasp her face, crushing her jaw with bruising force. Tears arose in her eyes.

"I got a job," she whispered, defeated and fearing the harshness his hands could bring to her skin.

"A job? Where? How? You're only 15."

"Sixteen," Clary corrected, still a quiet whisper. His hands left her chin, which she dropped immediately to gaze at his chest – he was too close for her to gaze her feet.

"Since when?"

"Last week," she told him, hands fumbling together. He grunted, accepting her answer, before he smiled.

"Good girl," he praised, to her great surprise, and she looked up startled, "You give me the money each week, when you get paid."

"B-but, the rent-" Clary objected to which he growled, grasping her by the lapels of her shirt.

"You really gonna challenge me, _girl_?" he hissed, threatening her with his pungent breath and terrifying demeanor. She shook her head rapidly.

"Good," he affirmed, pushing away from her and backing away. She breathed a sigh of relief, watching as he retreated until her was head whipped to the side, her cheek crushed as she fell to her side, crashing into the floor. Both the sound of the smack and the impact was delayed by her confusion – leaving her momentarily disorientated.

"That's for lying to me!" Valentine spat. She was gasping, heart racing fast as she lay there, watching him return to the armchair. Her cheek stung and throbbed simultaneously.

Clary didn't know what was worse, to have your happiness crushed beneath dirty feet or to never feel it at all.

* * *

"Hey, Clary," Jace said with a beaming smile, leaning against her locker. Clary smiled back, "My sweater looks good on you."

Clary tugged at the sleeves, smiling shyly up at him.

"Do you want to come to my football game tonight?" Jace asked, eyes hopeful and full of light. Clary sighed. He recognized that exact expression of rejection and sighed, already disappointed before she even told him she couldn't go.

"I can't sorry," she rejected, feeling sad that she couldn't come to support him, "I'm working."

"Okay," Jace nodded, trying to school his features into a nonchalant expression, "Never mind."

Clary knew Jace had tried his best to hide his disappointment, but she could still see it and so tried to cheer him up by telling him a joke she found in a book in the library. He laughed and seemed happy, making Clary think everything was going to alright again.

* * *

Jace threw the soccer ball up into the air before catching it again, staring up at his monotonously white ceiling and the ball which rose and fell towards his face.

The bed he was laying on practically vibrated with the sheer volume of the bass of his music as it boomed from the large speakers he kept in the corner the room – a present from Alec.

He liked his music obnoxiously loud to drown out his thoughts so he wouldn't be thinking about Clary again.

"JACE!" the muffled voice cried somewhere outside his room, he turned his head lazily to see Isabelle storm into his room, an irritated expression souring her face.

"TURN IT OFF!" she screamed at him.

"WHAT!?" Jace shouted back, humoring her with pretended confusion. She screamed in frustration, stomping over to his stereo where she made it a big show of un-plugging the speakers straight from the wall.

"Asshole," she muttered, glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

He shrugged, "What do you want Izzy?"

"I _want_ you to stop making your own little concert in here - I was t _rying_ to talk on the phone!"

"With who, Meliorn?" Jace scoffed, "Real important, Izzy."

She huffed before cocking her hip, "What about Clary then, huh?"

"What about her?"

She threw her hands up in the air, as if in surrender of his judgement, "All I'm saying is: if you get to ignore us at school to hang out with your girlfriend then I can shut you up to talk to Meliorn."

"She's not my girlfriend."

Izzy rolled her eyes, "Yeah right."

"It's not like that," Jace relented, spinning the ball in his hands, "It's complicated."

Izzy raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

"Stop prying."

"No," Izzy refused, making herself comfortable on the opposite end of the bed. He pushed her off he bed with his feet, "Go away."

"No, we're going to talk about girls," Izzy refuted stubbornly, sitting back on the bed – but away from his legs and strategically near the wall so he couldn't evict her.

Jace ignored her, glaring at the ceiling instead.

"So…?" Izzy questioned, "How did you two meet?"

Jace shifted uncomfortably Clary wouldn't want him to tell his sister that they met at a homeless shelter on Christmas day. Not that he wanted to share such a moment with his sister – it was between him and Clary only.

"At school."

"Boring! You totally did not!" Izzy protested, "First day back at school she was wearing your old coat – the one you had outgrown but refused to throw away. _I_ noticed, so you met _outside_ of school and _before_ that."

"Well, what do _you_ think happened?"

Izzy mulled this over, "I think…that you met her in Central Park – she was walking with her…dog, I don't know and then you tripped her up but she fell into a pond and then you gave her your coat out of chivalry. She wore it to school because she liked you– very romantic."

Jace sighed, if only that had been the case, "Sure Izzy, that's exactly what happened."

A silence settled upon them before Izzy prodded him in the side, "Come on then, tell me what really happened!"

Jace said nothing, just craned his neck to look at her. She pouted, "You're not going to tell me?"

"No," he said.

She sighed loudly and unfolded herself from the bed, "Tell mom I'm going to Java's with Meliorn."

"Whatever."

* * *

Clary collapsed against the door in exhaustion, smelling the alcohol that proceeded Valentine before she even knew he was there. Her bones were weary and her heart was heavy. She was hungry too.

She had thought that would change.

She cracked her eyes open, forcing her feet to walk that distance towards the man and then to plunge her hands into her pockets and hand over the flimsy pieces of paper she had worked five long hours today alone to earn. She numbly watched as he counted it all up, before dismissing her as he pocketed it.

She coughed. Maybe she was sick.

Jocelyn emerged from the bedroom, spying her standing there.

"What's this about a job?" She accused, hands on hips, "I've got a debt to pay to a friend, how come _he_ gets all of it?"

"Because I deserve all of it," Valentine commented dryly.

"Oh shut it, pig!" Jocelyn sneered, eyes still focused on Clary, ignoring the insult Valentine hurled back. "So?" she asked.

"You could always ask him for some," she suggested, meekly. "I don't have anymore."

"Well don't you get tips or something? Can't you work overtime?"

Clary sighed, "I already work late."

"But can you work later?" she hammered, "You get paid more for overtime you know."

Clary's eyes shifted around the room, uncomfortable to look into her eyes. An eviction letter lay open for display, red letters stamped across the top.

"We still need to pay the rent." She commented. Jocelyn sighed long and hard.

"You're being so unfair!" she whined, "You can't give it all to him and not to me. It's just because he hits you, you should love _me more_ because I don't."

Clary felt guilty. Her mom was right, she should give it to them equally and her mom was nicer to her, why should it just be for him? She hated him.

"If I work overtime, will you pay the rent?" Clary asked. Jocelyn huffed,

"Fine, but only because I need this house for my art."

It was settled then.

Clary would work harder. For them.

* * *

"So what's the deal with the Fray girl?" Alec asked, jumping into the pipe in Mario as he looked over at Jace, who turned away from the TV to throw him an annoyed look.

"She's my friend," he said, turning back to the controller in his hands to clear the level with Alec – who was lagging behind annoyingly restricting Jace.

"If she's just a friend then why can't you hang out with me anymore?" Alec asked.

"I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't." Alec stated bluntly.

"There you go," Jace said, "You don't like her, so I don't hang out with you."

"But we're brothers Jace." Alec argued, "I don't want to be second to some girl."

"You're not, and anyway I won't stop you if you want to join us – it's you that's the problem."

"Me!?" Alec cried, "I'm not the one who kept me waiting after school, just because I was jealous of Sebastian."

"I'm not jealous: he's a pig," Jace bit back, "He was pushing Clary around."

"Jace, everyone pushes Clary around."

"Well they shouldn't!" Jace growled, throwing down the controller to glare at Alec head on, "Stop getting at me for being decent!"

"Yeah, for once," Alec scoffed.

"What's your problem Alec!?"

"My _problem_ is that you're ignoring me, I thought we were best friends Jace."

"Clary needed me, alright?" Jace spat, "She needed a friend, and if I have to choose her over you I will."

"Fine!" Alec yelled, storming away from the couch, leaving Jace steaming from his ears in his wake.

* * *

Clary walked home a long time after sunset, clutching the coat around her for protection against the harsh winds of the night. She couldn't help glancing around her shoulder every once in a while to be sure no-one was following her, it was unsettling to be out so late at night.

Her feet trudged the familiar path up the street and to the gritty apartment steps she had to climb all the way up to get to her apartment. Her feet felt like lead, pulling her down with every step she took and it was a mountain climb before she had even reached the first level.

She sighed, jumping when a clang from outside startled her – it was only a dog knocking a bin over she made herself think before she continued her steep incline.

Jocelyn was the first thing Clary saw when she entered the apartment – ashen faced and with sunken eyes; she was sleeping curled up in the worn out armchair. Her heart went out to her, the same sinking sadness creeping into her chest as it always seemed to – one way or another.

There was a ratty old blanket in one of the kitchen cupboards, rapidly collecting dust and Clary took it out – coughing when the dust rose in plumes into the air. It was clean enough though and she tiptoed back to her mom, carefully draping the blanket over her frail and shaking form.

She was using - again.

Clary sighed, kissing her mom gently on the forehead in a fashion never achievable when Jocelyn awoke but Clary liked to think her mother appreciated it. Of course she wouldn't thank her in person, but she would appreciate it all the same.

Dragging her feet to her bedroom, she practically collapsed onto the bed, back hitting the unrelenting mattress but her body was so exhausted she didn't even register her eyes as they closed.

Or when she fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

"Woah, Clary you look a little tired, are you okay?" Jace asked, coming to join him at the table, Simon was still in the lunch line.

Clary picked at the food on her plate, bought with the remaining money she had collected as a tip, which she had managed to sneak past both her parents.

"I'm fine, just a little…overworked," she said, but smiled to make him feel better.

He looked weary, not trusting her story but smiled anyway.

"Alec's finally accepted that you're my best friend, so you can come over to my house any time without fear of Lightwood fever."

"Best friend?" Clary questioned, elated.

"Of course, I'm yours too right?"

"Of course."

Jace smirked first, put then his lips turned up more into a smile and he threw a grape into the air and caught it, still looking at Clary. She blushed and stared back down at her food. She looked up when Simon joined to see Jace wiggling his eyebrows at her, she giggled.

"Hey Clary," Simon greeted, plopping his bag onto the floor, "I was thinking about hosting a movie night to watch the remaining Lord of the Rings films, want to come?"

"Sorry I-"

"Jace is coming," Simon argued. Clary sighed, sad again at her misfortune.

"I want to come, I really do, but…I'm working."

"Again!?" Simon exclaimed, "Clary you've been working every day of this week!"

"I know." She whispered, avoiding their eyes. Jace's fiery gaze of disapproval was trained upon her.

* * *

Clary clutched the mop to keep her from falling as she cleaned the floor of the fast food restaurant. Her head felt heavy and she blinked, trying to dispel the exhaustion drooping her eyes closed.

The clock ticked on, the hand striking midnight. The managers had switched over at eight, which should have been the end of her shift. Her co-workers gave her impatient looks, having to weave around her as they served the customers. Someone kicked over the bucket.

Clary sighed, deciding to clock out and put the broom away in the cupboard, hanging up the apron with aching arms. She clocked out, and approached the manager who handed her the cash she was due. The gist of what he told her was clear as he rifled through the money – when will she get a bank account, can she work these hours again tomorrow, Cindy was off sick – the rest of it floated over her head like butterflies.

She took the money he offered and clutched it in her hands as if it was actually hers.

If only.

She couldn't complain though. Jocelyn had kept her word and the rent had been paid, appeasing their landlord for now.

Valentine beat her less frequently.

She was lucky, really.

"You not eating lunch?" Jace observed, frowning at Clary as he deposited his tray onto the table in front of him, spying the empty space in front of Clary.

She shook her head.

"I'm not hungry."

Jace fumbled with his knife and fork, avoiding her eyes before muttering, "You're always hungry."

Clary was equally as awkward, "I-I, I just don't have the money right now to pay for it."

Jace frowned deeper, pushing a potato around his plate before looking into her eyes, "I thought you had a job? That you constantly work at?"

This question obviously hit a sensitive spot and he saw a tear fall from her eye before it was quickly swept away and left her eyes shimmering, "I do." She whispered.

Jace didn't understand, why couldn't she afford lunch if she was getting paid? Especially after working so many hours?

"But Clary-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped, cutting him off as she stared at the blank table, tracing imaginary lines angrily in it.

"Fine," Jace said and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"To buy you lunch."

Clary was upset that he was angry with her, but was grateful the subject had clearly been dropped and that he was still kind enough to buy her lunch, even when she didn't deserve it.

Jace was annoyed with himself, fidgeting in the queue as he thought back to the conversation. He should have pushed her further, but even then he knew she wouldn't reply and she would only shut herself off again. Besides he could see the weariness in her eyes, her stance and the purple bags seemingly permanently under her eyes. It would be cruel to deplete her mood any further.

* * *

"Come with me," Jace said, grabbing Clary's hand. She followed a confused frown on her face.

"Where are we going?" she asked, shouldering her backpack as he let her out of school to the tune of the home bell.

"Out," Jace responded with a sly grin, drawing her up to his side, and interlacing their fingers as they walked along the sidewalk. She glanced down at them with a raised eyebrow.

"Jace…this isn't the way home."

"I know," he smirked. Clary's eyes narrowed and her mouth widened in preparation to argue, but Jace put a finger to his lips, giving her wide puppy eyes.

"Jace-" Clary started.

"Shh, Clary come on, one day off work. For me?"

Clary debated. She could easily just drop his hand and turn back the way they came. Or she could have one fun day out, miss work just this once, and keep her hand in Jace's.

"Okay," she relented, "Just this once."

"Yes!" Jace triumphed, fist pumping the air with his free hand and squeezing Clary's a little tighter with the other. She let him lead her through the streets, not knowing where it will lead, but excited for the prospect of it.

He took her to central park, she recognized it instantly and smiled to herself. They walked along the path, hand in hand, and Clary marveled at the tranquility of the trees in March, when the trees where just growing in their new leaves and the flowers where tentatively blooming. Jace turned off the main path and through the trees, "I know a shortcut," he explained.

The 'shortcut' ended by one of the waterfalls.

It wasn't empty when we arrived, there were a few other people milling around but he shrugged, sitting down on a rock nearby. Clary joined him, marveling at the pretty blue of the fall and the sound it made as it crashed against the rocks below.

Jace nudged me, "Here," he said, handing me a sausage roll from his bag, "I thought we'd have a picnic."

Clary beamed at him in wonder, "You planned this?"

He smirked, "'course I did."

They talked as tehy ate and Clary was amazed at how easily Jace managed to make even the most mundane events at school into comedic stories and even my stomach was happy here by the waterfall.

He dug out his iPod and shared his earphones with me as Clary took out her school sketchbook out to draw the waterfall. Jace leant on her, watching over her shoulder, but she found she wasn't anxious by it, which shocked both of them. But she reasoned he had to be close to her or the earbuds would tug and fall out – as a discovered a few frustrating times. He had a good music choice, not that she really knew anything about popular songs, but he played soft songs when she had expected scary, heart pumping screaming songs.

After some time she finished off the waterfall, with a flourish of the pencil, smiling down at the finished result, Jace took the book and examined it, "Very pretty," he complimented.

"Thank you."

Clary put the book away but neither made a move to stand up. Jace returned to his leaning position on Clary and she stared out at the calming water, marveling in the novelty of this situation. Jace was also marveling the situation, but how Clary's body felt next to him, and how warm it made his insides feel. She was tiny next to him, with her legs curled up under her and the wind blowing her ginger hair gently around her shoulder. She was still a little tense, and guarded, but Jace was in awe of her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the fresh air and placed her head against Jace's shoulder.

His smile got wider as he stared at where she rested, going as still as a statue in order not to disturb her. She fell asleep, he noticed after a few minutes but didn't want to move.

He leant back onto his hands slowly, ensuring that she didn't fall in the process and looked up at the sky, trying not to smile as giddily as he felt. She awoke when the breeze lifted a little and the air grew colder, moving away from him.

He stood up, brushing his pants off, before offering his hand out for her to stand up, she took it and he kept her hand in his as he grabbed both their bags, leading her away with a little tug.

"I can carry my bag," she pointed out.

"I know," he replied, but kept hers in his hand.

They passed a desolate band stand on their way back and Jace smiled, tugging her towards it and up the steps.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, suspicious. He dumped their bags by the side, turning to face her and grabbed both her hands,

"Dance with me?"

She relented, letting him lead her by her hands in some kind of awkward dance. He twirled her around a few times, bringing her a little closer as the moved around the stand. He swayed and she laughed when he twirled himself around her fingers.

There was no music, only the music of Clary's laughter and the scuffling of their feet. She tripped on his feet a few times, but he only found in endearing. They spun around a few times before he drew her closer, both hands resting in hers and lowered them down between them at their sides.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, so softly Clary wondered if he was serious. Her eyes went wide and she blushed furiously.

"I don't know how…" she whispered. He broke his left hand away from where it was intertwined with hers and cupped it against her neck.

"Like this," he said, tilting her face up to his to meet his as he leant down. He pressed his lips to hers, softly, smiling against her mouth. It was slow and sweet, Clary shy in the embrace and willing to let Jace lead, he placed his other hand on her waist. He tilted his head, drawing a deeper kiss from her before moving back and trying again. She faltered and he drew back, kissing the tip of her nose instead.

Jace entangled her hand within his again, "Let's go."

* * *

It wasn't immediately when Clary returned home that things went wrong. She got home, slept and woke up on Saturday morning as she would usually.

She went to work, feeling these giddy butterflies running wild and couldn't help the way a smile would creep onto her lips once in a while.

Jace had kissed her! She smiled again.

Her shift ended, she went home and heated up some leftovers in contentment, happy enough to eat noodles in the silence of the apartment.

Her smile faded when Valentine came home.

He stomped through the door, thunder in his gaze as he slammed the door. She was on her feet before any words were said, dumping the container in the sink before whirling around to face him.

He glared at her, "What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," she hurriedly appeased him.

"Have you seen my phone?" he growled out, and she shook her head furiously.

"No sir."

He shouldered past her and peered into her room, entering it and kicking her pile of clothes to the side before dropping to his knees to check under her bed.

He reached in, and the phone came back with him. Clary's eyes widened as her heart stuttered.

"I don't know how that got there!" She cried, backing up from the doorframe when she saw the dark glower in his eyes.

"Why was it under your bed?" he asked, voice low and terrifying. She kept stumbling away from him, until she was against the very furthest wall. He kept creeping closer towards her.

"I don't know!" she reiterated, "I didn't take it, I swear! Maybe mom put it there, or it just skidded under there-"

His hand snapped up under her chin, bearing down on her with a truly petrifying glare, "You liar."

She shook her head, but he smashed his fist into her side, his teeth gnashing together in his anger.

"You stole from me!" He screamed, hurling Clary across the room. She gasped, landing awkwardly on her side, knocking the wind right out from her lungs.

"You selfish bitch! We do everything for you!" he yelled, a fist pounding against her stomach, a penance for her thievery. "When you deserve _nothing_ , you filthy liar!"

He ran out of painful things to do with his hands and feet and so grabbed a beer bottle of the counter, smashing it against the side. The shards rained down onto where Clary lay helpless on the floor as she shielded her face with her arms.

Clary could barely even register the next few minutes.

* * *

 _"_ _Fuck!_ " Clary swore, hands frantically reaching for a shirt, which she wrapped around the gaping gash in her leg with trembling fingers. Her heart was in her mouth and her head felt like an elephant had danced on top of it.

She finally managed to tie a knot, adding pressure to the wound with a hiss. Cursing even more as her wet hands fumbled, slipping on the shards of glass before she could pull them out her arms.

Valentine had dumped her in her room before he left, and now she was alone and unable to think straight.

The door opened with a creak as Jocelyn shuffled in with heavy boots and a clouded mind. Clary looked to the hallway and grappled an arm over her bed frame before forcing herself to stand on uncontrollably shaking legs.

She managed a clumsy, leaden limp whilst panting and clinging to the walls and then to the doorframe. Jocelyn glanced toward her with wide and crazed eyes.

Clary swore again, sliding down the doorframe as her leg gave out. She was rapidly losing blood and her only help was as high as the clouds.

"Okay, Jocelyn I need you to concentrate and help me up, I need to get to the hospital."

"Hospital? Hospital?" She answered, voice airy but eyes now better focused as she took in the blood. Clary wanted to slap her or throw water in her face but there was simply no energy for it.

"Yes, I need help mom."

She scrutinized Clary, her lips moving without any words forming from them before nodding swiftly.

"Help…yes, I can do that." Jocelyn muttered, drifting into the bathroom. Clary swore, again, eyes seeking out the phone left on the table. If she could get there she could call 911.

Jocelyn came back with the first aid kit tucked under an arm. Clary glared.

"Mom, that's not fucking helpful, I need to get to the hospital!"

"We-ee don't have anys money to pay the hospital people, honey…I-if we can clean up all this-s blood than you'll be fine! Look! I…have a nice big plaster!"

Clary tried not to cry, feeling the desperation of the situation crashing down upon her. There was still glass in her hair – in her arm; a trickle of blood was steaming down her nose.

Jocelyn happily began tearing into a packet of old and dry wipes which Clary had rendered useless months ago. She dabbed at the gash on Clary's forehead, making it throb and sting with pain, Clary gasped and grasped her hand with her own shaking fingers.

"S-stop!" She commanded, eyes swimming with tears but she could still see Jocelyn's hurt expression. As if she had taken candy from a two-year-old.

"J-just go over to the phone and call 911, please, can you do that for me?" She asked calmly, as if her mother really was two.

Her mom frowned.

"No because then the hospitaaaal people will want our money," her eyes drifted to the left, "ooh that's a pretty faerie! Say hi Clary! I know you always liked the blue ones!"

"Mom!" Clary cried, snatching back Jocelyn's attention. "Go get the phone."

This time she listened, traipsing up to her mobile before picking it up.  
"Now give it to me," Clary ordered, beckoning for her mother, feeling blood tickle uncomfortably down her back. Jocelyn complied, plopping the phone into Clary's red ones with a grin before her eyes crossed over and she lost attention.

Clary struggled with the phone as it kept slipping from her slick fingers but she managed to dial 911, head becoming lighter with each shuddering breath.

"Hello 911, how can we help?"

"I need to get the hospital, I, um…" her mind wandered, clouded and drifting with the bloodloss, breathing faster and shallower.

"Honey, stay with me, where are you?"

"I…I…there's so much blood…" she managed to whimper.

"Where are you?" the female operator questioned again, "We need to know where you are to send help."

"Brooklyn…65th…." Clary stammered, black dots swarming her vision, "Jace." It was the only word which seemed to hold clarity in her mind.

"Jace? Is that your name?"

"Clary…I'm Clary."

"Okay, Clary help is on the way, stay with me."

"I'm scared," Clary whimpered.

"Stay with me, honey," she repeated.

"Okay…." Clary answered but even by then her mind had drifted off, eyes starting to droop closed.

"Clary," the operator said. Clary heard it in the distance, as if someone was calling for her down a long and twisted corridor… _"Clary!"_


End file.
